I know now that it had to happen.
I’ve come to this realization before,
so bear with me, but you know how this works.
We keep circling and circling and circling back
to the same old stuff until one day we get it,
and we can finally set off on a new trajectory.
It had to happen.
I was comfortable, and comfort was making me complacent.
I knew deep down I was meant for more.
I longed to be met at my depth,
to be seen and held and loved by someone capable
of seeing my value and loving the woman that I was.
It wasn’t happening, and a part of me grieved deeply.
It wasn’t happening, and I resigned myself to a love
not quite deep enough to be congruent with my true nature.
I yearned for more, so deeply in my heart I yearned,
and a voice said that I was fooling myself,
that such a love wasn’t possible in this world.
I was determined to do the work inside myself,
to search for where I felt unmet and dissatisfied,
and discover how I could meet and satisfy myself.
Hence the meditation, the writing, the reading,
the sewing, the knitting, the kombucha making,
the therapy, the workshops, the trainings,
the research, the practice, the commitment to arete.
I secretly thought I was doing him a favor
putting up with his lack of depth, his lack of vision,
his inability to penetrate me fully to the core of my being,
to flower me open to bigger possibilities,
to take me open to God.
Well if this is it, I told myself,
then I may as well make the most of it.
So I kept going.
And then it happened.
He dumped me. ME.
Me, the mother of his children.
ME, his WIFE.
Me, his yoga teacher.
Me, his partner, his best friend.
He threw me away.
It had to happen.
It took a while, but I see this now.
At times I look jealously at intact families,
and I’m triggered by what was stolen from me.
But then my new mindset arrives and reminds me
It had to happen.
The comfort was making me complacent.
I had to be made extremely uncomfortable
to be forced out of this nest, this cocoon,
this cage of material wealth,
where my needs for food, clothing and shelter were met,
and the price I paid for it all was my authentic happiness.
I look back on who I was and I shudder.
I look forward to who I know I will be and I shiver.
I look within to the one I am now and I smile,
at peace with the fact that sooner or later,
it had to happen.
After thinking about it for quite some time,
I think I’ve gotten it all wrong again,
and I’m willing to admit this,
and apologize, and own my part,
and ask for your forgiveness.
I write this in the spirit of a truce,
and I hope you can read this in kind.
Please forgive me.
I love you.*
I never meant for there to be animosity.
I was just hurting deeply.
My hurt became a habit, an identity.
I’m working to change that,
to identify with what is healthy and good.
I really want you to be well, to do well,
to be happy, to do good in this world.
I want to leave the past behind,
and start off somewhere fresh.
This isn’t about us anymore, afterall—
it’s about those two beautiful beings
that look up to us for guidance and instruction.
They are watching us, counting on us,
noticing our every move,
our every word.
We’re teaching them about life every day
whether we know it or not,
and we need to step up to the plate.
New game. New day.
I’m willing to play fair, for their sake.
I’m willing to get along for their sake.
*It might be shocking for you to know that I do still love you. Let me explain. When it’s really and truly love, it doesn’t go away just because the other person changes and goes away. When it’s love, it’s always there, regardless of what transpires. Of course the dynamic has changed so profoundly that the love got buried under conditions and the shifting sands of time…but just as before all this happened, I still want you to be happy, healthy and fulfilled. I still want you to be safe; I still want you to know love, even if it isn’t with me. You have your freedom; you always did with me, even though my pain has been too immense to accept and embody this freedom in the moments you’ve seen me. The expression of love has changed as our relationship has changed. I don’t feel it in the same way or in the same places. But it isn’t all gone. It’s just different. I want you to live a good life.
I was married to a hairdresser,
and in June 2017
he told me he would no longer cut my hair.
(Or sleep in the same bed.
Or share our life, our finances, our time.)
I’ve been sleeping alone since then,
and have fought mightily
to stay committed to this plane of existence,
and I have progressed by leaps and bounds
since June 2017, when I was
a messy slobbering puddle on the floor
grieving my life before it was blown apart.
As time passed
I discovered that I enjoyed sleeping alone,
and I felt more committed to
staying on this plane of existence,
but I still hadn’t gotten my hair cut.
I had built up the importance
of finding a new hairdresser
to the point of feeling anxious
and overwhelmed at the prospect of choosing.
So I didn’t choose.
I did nothing.
My dear friend gifted me with a hair cut last July
when I visited her in Colorado,
and I was oh so grateful to be neatened up a bit…
but I still hadn’t found
someone else to cut my hair in this town where I live,
Today I picked up the phone,
dialed the salon nearest my house,
booked the next available appointment,
found my way into a chair just an hour later.
I got a haircut!
I got a haircut!
I got a haircut!
And I am free at last.
I just want to be a good mother.
I try so hard.
And at the end of the day,
I lose it sometimes.
I lose it with my kids
when I’m tired and they’re tired.
There used to be another adult around
who’d step in
when I couldn’t anymore.
That adult is gone.
When I’m tired and sick
there is no one else to take care of me
I’m tired of taking care of myself,
tired of being alone.
I want help.
It’s in these moments
that the anger wells up
if I don’t stop it.
I get angry for being thrust into this place
of missing my kids when they’re not here
and overwhelmed when they are.
I’m tired of this mess, this story.
I can do so well for hours and hours.
I can be proud of my mothering,
the balance I manage to find.
But at the end of the day
I’m tired and they’re tired
and sometimes I just lose it.
Just when I think to myself
I’ve got this, I’m better,
I’m back down on my knees
by the side of my bed
sobbing the Serenity Prayer
to some Higher Power
I hope exists
but whose presence
I cannot quite feel
in those moments
of deep sadness and disconnection.
I turn back to my breath.
I sigh out the deep pain,
but it keeps coming,
the tears keep coming.
Is there no end to this?
Frequently it happens
that I am struck by a memory
of the times we were together,
a family of four,
and although we had our challenges
(like everyone else)
all was well with the world.
Two beautiful children,
jobs we liked and were good at,
a home, a life together.
And then one day it all changed.
You were done.
You blamed me.
You betrayed me.
I have spent nearly two years
trying to get back on my feet,
and I’m almost there.
I’m certainly stronger now
than I was at this time last year…
But what do I do with the memories of before?
Sometimes they are enough to bring me to my knees.
I can see our children happy, smiling,
I can hear my voice. I can see your face.
I can hear you telling me you loved me.
And then one day…
you didn’t love me anymore.
One day you told me
that your pain was my fault.
You told me what you were doing was brave,
that it took courage to leave.
I think the real courage would’ve been found
in your willingness to see your part in all of this,
and in your ability to ask yourself
why you were hurting so deeply
that you would betray the woman you married
and wound her the way that you did.
Today it is cold, gray and raining outside,
perfectly matching the state of my heart.
I miss my children.
I miss our life together.
And I know I would be fine,
if it weren’t for all the memories.
as I read books about sacred intimacy
between the divine masculine and
the divine feminine,
I realize how I resent being unpartnered.
I realize how I never thought
I’d be celibate for two years
at this stage of my life.
I think about my natural urges
as a grown woman,
my need for touch, intimacy, connection,
my desire to share myself with a sensitive, loving partner.
I think about how easy it would be
to create a profile on Tinder
and just hook up with someone.
that is not who I am.
Maybe in my 20’s
casual sex seemed like an okay thing to do,
but not anymore.
In order to experience
what I truly desire:
a profoundly deep connection
and the joy of truly being seen,
heard, held and cherished
within a safe intimate relationship,
I have a lot of work to do.
First on myself
and on the tendencies
that led me into a marriage
with a man who rejected
who I was at my deepest core,
I have to start somewhere
and maybe actually go on a few dates.
UGH. UGH. UGH.
Hi, I’m Lorien.
I’m recently divorced,
I have two young children,
and I’m still healing
from the tremendous pain I experienced
when my ex-husband abandoned me.
I’m not sure I would want me
with that kind of endorsement.
So maybe I’m not ready after all.
So HEY! Just curious. Is there anyone out there who went through a godawful, brutal divorce, healed from it, and managed to go on and meet someone with whom you’re enjoying a safe and healthy relationship? Anyone with kids from a previous marriage who managed to meet someone new and engage in a better, healthier relationship than the one you had with your children’s other parent? I’m all ears. I’d love to hear what worked for you in your healing process and any insights you’d offer to someone like me, who isn’t all that excited at the prospect of dating, but who longs for a safe, intimate partnership with someone sane and healthy—and who has no idea where to begin…
It occurred to me
that every second I spend
trying to get him
to give me the money
that is mine by law
is a second I divert my attention
from the mission
of creating my own money
by offering value to the world
doing the things I know how to do best.
I’m choosing to let go.
I was told not to hold my breath
so I’m breathing,
slowly and deeply
and with gratitude
that I can wake up to this moment
and open to being taught.
Are you he,
the one who procreated with me
and then left,
blaming me for everything?
Or are you one of his minions,
currying favor with him,
by feeding the thought
that I’m the crazy one?
don’t you have anything better to do,
than to scour the internet
looking for proof
that his lies about me are true?
I am a woman
making my way back on my feet
after a devastating loss.
Are you his new victim?
Do you believe the story that he loves you?
He told me he loved me once.
But when all was said and done,
it was easier to blame me for his pain
than to man up and work on himself.
You can troll all you want.
He can say that I am “whining” online.
But I will not stop speaking my truth.
And someday you might discover
that the things you criticize in me
are the disowned places in you
crying out for your loving attention.
When you feel ready to access those places,
you’ll stop pointing your finger at others
and go in the only real direction
that you haven’t yet explored…
Yesterday in a text message my ex-husband accused me of “whining online.” If you look at my post yesterday, you’ll see I talked about some challenges I’m currently going through: his underpayment of court-ordered support and the subsequent need to take legal action, as well as my need to secure new health insurance. Admittedly I was a bit startled when he referenced my online activity—choosing words that confirmed he had read my post—because it got me thinking that he or someone else is trolling this blog, stirring up adversity and feeding the story that there is something wrong with me. I speak this out into space, because I’m discovering more and more that abuse and shame can’t exist out in the open. Our secrets make us sick, and I won’t keep it a secret that the man I once loved is deciding to take liberties with the agreement he signed his name on, and justifying withholding funds from court-ordered support for me and his children with his twisted logic. I speak this out in the open, because unfortunately, underpayment or no payment of child support is the norm in our society, and those who have a legal responsibility to provide support to their children and former partners somehow manage to dodge the law and dodge the consequences that the law would mete out if they were caught in a timely fashion. I speak this out because I want this trend to change. I realize that if it has been this awful for me—coming from relative privilege (education, resources, community, job)—how must it be for the population of underprivileged single moms out there who don’t have access to the same resources? Finally, my words are my power. By speaking my truth I know who I am. I will not back down. I plan on fighting a good fight, for myself and all moms everywhere who struggle to know what their future will hold in a time of such volatility and uncertainty.
And to you trolls out there, whether you are he himself, or his new intimate victim, or one of his “friends,” keep reading. Enjoy my posts. Have fun. May you be safe, happy, healthy, peaceful and at ease. And may the pure light of awareness shine upon you and lead you to the realization that what you do to another you do to yourself, so that you can begin helping instead of continuing to hurt. When you feed a story like this, it helps no one. I stand with my hand stretched out in friendship, and you can take it at any time. The choice is yours.
Today, I did some things
that I had been avoiding doing…
Filled out application for assistance
from the Office of Child Support Enforcement
Got on the phone to find out
about health insurance
now that I’ve been dumped
from my ex-husband’s plan
(MORE FUN TIMES),
Contacted attorney about
filing a motion for contempt
for underpayment of child support
(EVEN MORE FUN TIMES)…
It’s no wonder I was putting
these things off!
I’d like to get to the point
where I do unpleasant things like these
immediately, without delay.
Is there anyone out there
who is an expert
at doing unpleasant things?
How do you overcome the resistance
and take action?
How do you just get it done?
I’m all ears.